"This isn't fair you know. I'm your Prince. Hell, I'm practically your king. There's no limit on what I could do to you, Percival. No limit. I could hang you. Or behead you. Burn you. Or any other nasty way of dying. I'm not going to, though, Percival, because you're one of my Knights. My knights are supposed to listen to me. They're supposed to do whatever I say. Therefore, I think that you are supposed to listen and do what I say when I tell you to set. Me. Down."
I sighed as my continuing lecture had no effect on the Knight below me. I looked up as Elyan came into my view.
"Wake up soon, Arthur. For your sake as much as mine and Percival's, shut up. You were hit by a spell, and we don't know what it did to you. So calm down, let us take you to the king, and let us figure this out, damnit." I stared at Elyan. He's stared right back. I finally stopped struggling when we entered the citadel.
I can't breathe.
By the Gods, I. cannot. Breathe.
The look on Arthur's face.
Oh, Gods.
I slowly recovered from laughing, my curiosity peaking. Why the hell did Percival need to carry the prat? Worry coursed through my veins. I stifled it quickly, quenching it before I could really feel it.
"Let's go see what happened." Lancelot suggests, noticing my train of thought.
"After that, I'm taking you two to the tavern." Gwaine's smile looked positively evil.
I relaxed in Percival's hold, getting used to the feeling of being carried. I recognized the fact that we were approaching the throne room, yet it did little to ease my mind. Speaking of my mind, thoughts were flying, half formed thoughts and images- memories- flitting across my mind. A woman under, perhaps in water, her smiling at me- at my disbelief. Fire dancing in my hand, the flames cool to the touch. Sitting by the fire, calm despite the roars in the distance. I knew these never happened to me, yet they seem too personal, so cherished, that I cannot bear to think of them as anybody else's.
I closed my eyes as we entered the hall.